


Shore Leave

by grumpyphoenix



Series: Brain Salad [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Not Beta Read, drunk kirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 23:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/grumpyphoenix
Summary: Spock carries a drunk Kirk to a hotel.





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was ‘im literally carrying your drunk ass home in my arms and you’re in a glittery wedding dress you DONT own’  
> taken randomly from [ Here](http://perfectlyrose.tumblr.com/post/101118660910/au-prompts-masterlist-of-lists)

James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise, gets firmly escorted outside the ‘B’zar Classic Club’,  by a pair of beefy bouncers. One of them goes back in the club while the other one keeps his hand clamped on Jim’s bicep, steering him out onto the sidewalk. Grumbling and complaining, Jim pulls his hands free, staggering away and making  a rude gesture. Rolling his eyes, the bouncer holds up his hands and melts back into the club with an irritating smirk. 

Jim stumbles away from the building, his bad mood evaporating instantly. Grinning and singing, he gathers stares as he tries to dance down the street, finally tripping and falling over the glittery teal wedding dress he’s wearing. He doesn’t land though, caught instead by a pair of unreasonably strong arms. Looking up into the eyes of his saviour, he snorts.

“Oh, wow, this will be great later. No, stop!” He bats ineffectually as he’s lifted, bridal style.

Jim grins at Spock. He smells like vodka and fruit. “Watch the tulle, it’s delicate. You’re veery strong for such a little guy.” he links his arms around Spock’s neck, batting his eyelashes. He’s wearing mascara and long glittery eyelashes. It makes his eyes look even more beautiful than usual.

Spock sighs. “Captain…” He doesn’t seem sure where to begin, his eyes slipping down the captain’s body. James kicks a little and pretends to swoon.

“This is not your…dress.” Spock ventures, and Jim grins at him.

“I look good in it, right? It’s mine now, Misssster Spock.”

Some people, hopefully members of another crew, walk by and shout ‘kiss him already!’, their laughter lingering in the air. Jim is too drunk to walk in a glittery poofy dress, but not too drunk to see the faint tinge to his first officer’s cheeks. The smile growing on his face makes Spock’s expression shutter.

“Captain, the last we heard from you, you were going to some kind of classical music concert.” he seems at a loss. “If I return you to The Enterprise in this state, I suspect you will have regrets in the morning.”

He cups Spock’s cheek with one hand, causing a full body tremor and a glare that would wilt a lesser man. “I  _ did _ go to a classical music concert. In that club. God, all night, and it was wonderful. Punk is always so much fun. The ladies inside gave me this dress. And the eyelashes. Do you like them?“

He bats his eyes and laughs at Spock’s patient expression. “There’s a hotel around the corner, I can sleep it off there.” He fishes a key out from inside the bustier with a wiggle, and dangles it on one finger.

Spock starts walking, ignoring Jim’s protests  and requests to let him down. Eventually, Jim rests his head against Spock’s shoulder and closes his eyes, the long glittery lashes resting against his cheek. His fingers play absently with the small hairs on the back of Spock’s neck, which is possibly why he stops for a full minute before going into the hotel, unable to process any more stimuli.

It isn’t a great hotel, but that means that they don’t blink when Spock carries Jim in, dressed the way he is. Spock ignores them and heads to Jim’s room without conversation, but he’s sure if the hotel personnel were at all curious, they’d know who the two men were. He’s certain that by the time they get back to The Enterprise, there will be some kind of story passed around through the crew.

Maneuvering the door with a mostly unconscious JIm in his arms is difficult, but he finally gets it open, cursing the old fashioned nature of this whole entire planet. Having to actually use a  _ doorknob _ while encumbered like this is unreasonable. He deposits Jim on the bed and returns to close and lock the door.

Sitting in the chair, he watches his Captain sleep, lit by the slowly blinking neon lights outside. He lies on his side facing the window, and Spock has plenty of time to rest and puzzle out how such a garish piece of clothing looks somehow better on him than the uniform. He rises and gently removes each of the Captain’s boots. Jim’s hand snags him as he tries to pull away.

“Stay,” his alcohol scented breath ghosts over Spock’s skin. “Stay here with me. Just lie here.” He sounds vulnerable and sad, and his hand drops to the bed.

Spock removes his own boots and carefully lies down behind Jim, who makes a happy inebriated sound and wiggles back against him, his breathing slowing and evening out.


End file.
